Lessons
by irisbud
Summary: Picard/Crusher fans read this one! Please Please Please review!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are property of Paramount Pictures, etc. I just dust them off and play with them once in a while.

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"Perhaps there is something to be said for not

getting what you want, but getting what you have.

After all, oftentimes, when you consider all of your 

options and possible outcomes, you often realize

it's what you would have wanted in the first place."

-unknown

The sky was blue, and the purple clouds of twilight shone with heartbreaking clarity tonight. He had walked this path before, many times in fact. For him, atop this tiny hill was a place he had thought of as his second home. Things would be different now, that he knew. He found, to his surprise, that this sentiment pained him almost as much as the loss of his dear friend did. It was easy to understand, though, he told himself. After all, it is not the loss that we truly mourn; it is the changes that await us in its wake.

She didn't know yet. He felt he owed her, owed them, something more than the traditional subspace beacon, so he had taken a shuttlecraft back to Sector 001. He had to tell her in person. The final member of their foursome had joined him. Walker had made the trip for moral support, but this journey was his alone. It was one of the more grizzly aspects of being a Starfleet Captain. He had lost others before, but never a friend. He worried that his relationship with Jack may have clouded his judgment of how to break the news to Beverly.

His stomach tensed as he thought of her. Suddenly, this face-to-face encounter seemed like a terrible mistake. Perhaps it was not his friendship with Jack that had clouded his judgment at all. He felt sick at his own thoughts. The feelings he had for his best friend's wife had always been inappropriate, but now they seemed grotesque. His face burned with a pang that was beyond guilt, it was as though he were desecrating his friend's memory.

He froze, the wooden door having appeared before him all too soon. She would be there, on the other side. He came as close to panic as Jean Luc Picard ever did. He realized, fully, for the first time, that his words would hurt her, and, moreover, he would be forced to stand and bear witness to her pain. He wished now that he had proceeded in the standard way, detaching himself rather that being a friend.

He had no choice now, however.

He raised his hand and rapped on the door. "Just a moment," he heard her sing out from within. He swallowed, wiping the beads of perspiration from his brow.

"Jean Luc, what a pleasant surprise," she exclaimed, a vision of simple loveliness. "Jack didn't tell me the two of you were expecting shore leave anytime soon. Look at me, answering the door in these disgusting old rags," she shook her head as though she were forlorn, but the smile etched upon her lovely features gave her away.

"Beverly," he started. He licked his lips, which had suddenly gone dry, and tried again. "Beverly."

She stared into his eyes, and he saw something click. Her cheerful exuberance was gone, replaced by a crazed worry that was a mixture of panic and pain.

"Jean Luc, please, no. It can't be…" her voice trailed off, choked away by tears.

"I'm so sorry," he said, handing her the PADD on which the details of her husband's death were described. Her fingers brushed his as she took it from him, and her wanted nothing more than to hold her, to comfort her. 

Slowly, he reached up to wipe the tears from her eyes. As he did, she startled and drew back. "Thank you, Captain," she said in a hollow, dead sort of voice.

She shut the door in his face.

His pain intensified.


	2. Chapter 2

The being known as the Traveler stared thoughtfully at his pupil, measuring him against standards which, to any normal human male the man's age, would have been not only unattainable, but unthought of. This was no ordinary man, however. This was a man of destiny, of that he was most certain. The teacher had hand selected him, at his birth, to travel the galaxy by his side, bringing order to chaos. At last they were together.

He had potential and natural talent. But he also had drive. He wanted to succeed. He wanted to understand. The Traveler had visited many places and times. He knew that will overcame weakness, and that attitude was far more desirable than aptitude. His pupil had many choices to make during his journey, but the teacher had faith in the steadfast nature of the man. He was certain that of all the infinite choices reality had to offer, the man would choose the one with the most potential. He would savor it and make it his destiny. The Traveler smiled a smile wrought with deep, profound thought. He knew what was to come, and was satisfied. It would be magnificent.

For now, though, he returned his mind to the present, where the man was waiting. He sat down across the visionary fire from him, and locked his soulful eyes into Wesley Crusher's inquisitive ones.

"I have a journey for you." He spoke with such rhythm and cadence that it was impossible to be impervious to his orations. Wesley leaned forward eagerly, almost boyish in his excitement. "You have learned many things," the teacher continued, "things which you will need to complete this task." Wesley's excitement grew. Somehow, he knew, this time would be different. "You have proven your ability to me. Now you must prove it to yourself. Do not forget your character, or the ultimate purpose of our mission. Go now. I bid you good fortune." With that the teacher rose, leaving Wesley alone to stare into the crackling flames. What he saw frightened him.

"Mom," he whispered softly, cradling his head in his hands.

*****

Beverly Crusher sat in the shade of a giant boulder, sweat curling long tendrils of her red hair against her face. She looked on in boredom as her comrade, Captain Jean Luc Picard picked through heaps of pottery shards and torn scriptures with the fervor of a man possessed. His eyes glittered with intensity as he scanned the piles before him. Beverly wondered why she had allowed herself to be talked into this ridiculous excursion.

The Enterprise was in dry dock for the next few weeks as maintenance was performed on her. Picard, seizing the opportunity to study the archeological wonders of nearby Torpid VI, had somehow managed to persuade his Chief Medical Officer to join him, enthralling her with the rapture of ancient jewelry and buried cities. Beverly, though she had tried mightily, had been unable to catch his enthusiasm following their arrival and her sense of humor had all but disappeared as the heat became stifling and the only things they discovered were pottery shards.

She stood up and brushed herself off, about to suggest that they call it a day and head back to the base for a nice evening of dinner, drinks, and conversation when something caught her eye. She walked toward the glittering spot, and found herself brushing off a dusty old gilt mirror that had been half hidden beneath the silt of time. She traced her fingers over the obscure scripture, certain that Picard would be able to decipher it.

There was something odd about the mirror. She gazed into it suspiciously. Something was different. It was the eyes. Her eyes. Eyes were the mirrors of the soul, constantly changing and recoalescing as life marched on brandishing its sword. These were not Beverly Crusher's eyes. These were eyes from another a place and time where things were different. She shook her head, slightly unnerved by her ridiculous notions. Obviously the heat was getting to her, and the impending sunset was causing the light to play tricks with the mirrors surface. Still, these rationalizations did nothing to warm the chill inside of her.

"Jean Luc," she called, "come here. I think you might be interested in this." She couldn't resist adding, "It's far more fascinating than sifting through ancient heaps of garbage."

Picard took her comment in stride and walked over to where she stood. It was beautiful. The mirror was the most fabulous discovery he had ever had on one of his archeological excursions. He wondered why no one had found it until now. Excitement belied his curiosity, however, and he pulled out his translator, anxious to reveal the secrets hidden within the scripture. He tapped the symbols in, and waited for a response.

He frowned. "How odd," he muttered aloud. The response was far from what he had expected. Objects of this kind usually were embossed with some kind of scripture or a name. This one had a cryptic riddle that, as far as the Captain could see, had nothing to do with vanity.

"What does it say?" Beverly leaned in close, reading over his shoulder. Had anyone else done that he would have been extremely annoyed. He liked it when she did, though. Her eyes scanned the readout, and then she read aloud:

__

I hold the keys to your future and past

Heed my warning now that your chance will not last

Answer my riddle and you will have won

A chance do things how you wish they'd been done

First is the thing that comes twice with dread

The beginning of day and the end of the end

Next is the thing folks are most often caught in

IF they would just face the truth they would not have to concoct them

Last is something in the east north and west

Its in the south too and doubled in its best

Now string them together and then tell me this:

What do you feel after a hug or a kiss?

They stared at each other for a moment. Picard was intrigued, and in his element. Beverly, however, looked dubious. The earlier discomfort she had felt upon looking in the mirror still irked her, but she did not tell her commanding officer about it. After all, her reflection having different eyes, it was a silly notion, and Beverly Crusher, for all her faults and falibilities, was not a silly woman. 

Picard muttered to himself, trying to logically work out the clues. "The middle one is the easiest," he said, hoping to get her involved in the solving of this mystery. The sooner he could unravel it the better. Dark was falling upon the horizon, and if the captain was unable to finish this business before they left, he knew he would be up all night stewing over it.

"The thing people are most often caught in when they don't face the truth. That has to be a lie," he said. Beverly raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "Let's see," he continued, resigning himself to the fact that she was unwilling to assist him. "Something that comes twice in dread, at the beginning of the day and at the end of the end…" He typed the words absently into the data PADD, lining them up in a column. She could almost see the cogs in his head turning as he put it together. "The letter 'D'," he exclaimed out loud. 

"So now we have D lie. Hmm." He paused a moment, and Beverly put it together for him.

"Delight."

"Ah, yes. Very well then. Delight it is. Now that we've uncovered the secrets of the universe, I think its time that we…"

He never got to finish.

All around them, a blue light seemed to spread from everywhere. The ground quaked beneath their feet, and the mounds of pottery were reduced to heaps of dust and rubble. Suddenly the mirror began to change, as though it were turning to putty, melting and warping, the sides widening, and the center pulling away.

The mirror had turned into a gateway.


	3. Chapter 3

Wesley Crusher shattered the glass he was holding in his fist, as sensations swirled around him. His visions, so full of depth and so clairvoyant, usually lent him peace and comfort, but not this time. He was filled with dread, urgency, and a sense of impending doom. 

"Don't go in," he whispered, but he knew his plea was for naught. After all, it was them versus fate, in a battle for destiny. Ultimately, they didn't have a prayer.

He saw as the blue light exploded around them, forcing them in through the portal. His mother screamed. Picard remained staunch and silent.

"Mom," he whispered softly, as he prepared to jump the dimensional boundaries.


	4. Chapter 4

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The noise had stopped. Now the space was blank and empty. She was falling. Strangely, though, she felt no fear. 

The chasm was dark, and on the walls, visions exploded around her in so surreal a manner she would have been nauseated, had she not been intrigued. She wondered what had happened to him. For about a millisecond. Then she had no time to wonder anymore.

It felt as though time were crashing in on her, as though the universe were enfolding itself around her, smothering her with lives she'd have rather not relived, and pains she'd tried all too hard to forget.

There were voices, and there were moments. She saw things she'd forgotten; found things she never knew she'd lost. She wept and she laughed and she lived and she died in the space of a breath.

She thought, rather fancifully, that perhaps she was dead. She was trying to decide her feelings on the subject when she slammed into the floor below.

Then she did not think, could not think, anymore.

*****

Wesley arrived just after the fall. He knew they were unhurt, but that did nothing to ease the turmoil that ravaged his soul as he paced the room, waiting for them to awaken. He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He had done this before, after all. It was part of the life in his line of work. Someone falls, seemingly errantly, upon a weak spot in the space time continuum. They then have to relive a series of events in their lives, events that changed or defined them in some way. It was Wesley's job to make sure that their experience left them with an impression that they could carry over into their normal lives when they returned to them. 

He had never guided more than one person at a time, however. Furthermore, he had certainly never expected to perform this service for his mother and the closest thing he had to a father, Jean Luc Picard. He tried to tell himself that it just came with the territory, but this revelation did nothing to diminish the lump in his throat. 

After all, things did go wrong. People messed with time, not realizing that something so simple as a misspoken word or arriving a second too early or too late could drastically alter time, throughout the cosmos, forever. They refused to rectify their blunders and kept making the same simple and obvious mistakes over and over again. Usually, things did not go well. To him, the lessons to be learned ware simple. The problem was that people often tend to overlook the little things, feeling subconsciously that a difference could only be made by doing something complex and therefor, in their eyes, meaningful.

Wesley prayed that his mother and the captain were as smart as they had always seemed to be.

*****

They awoke slowly, almost simultaneously. Picard lifted himself from the ground, feeling as though he had been run over by a renegade shuttlecraft. His face felt squashed and flat, his lungs deflated. Beverly wasn't too much better off, he decided after quickly glancing over her. In moments, they were on their collective feet, staring at each other, each wondering what to do next.

"Hello Mom. Captain," Wesley stepped forward from the shadows, his face twisted in a jovial grin. 

Picard, still searching for explanations, jumped to life at his appearance. "Wesley, what the devil is going on here. We were looking at a mirror, and the next thing I knew I was waking up face down on the ground in here." Picard looked stern, and unamused. He was in as bad a humor as Wesley could ever remember seeing him.

Which is the precise moment that Q arrived.

Wesley moaned. His task would be hard enough without the omnipotent being running around wreaking havoc and mussing things up. Q delighted in trouble, and was always happy to be along for the ride when it seemed they were headed straight for disaster. None other than this pesky being had destroyed some of his best work. Wesley did believe, however, that this was the absolute worst moment Q had ever picked to arrive.

"Q!" snapped Picard, at once whip tense and alert, "Are you behind this?" There was something dangerous in Picard's eyes, a look he reserved solely for beings like the one standing before him.

"Moi," Q put a hand to his chest in melodramatic astonishment. "Why, Mon capitine, I'd have thought you would be better able to recognize my work by now. Surely you do not believe this slipshod nonsense to be my doing. "You just happened to be at the right place at the right time."

Beverly scoffed in the corner, her blue eyes diamond hard.

Q clapped his hands in delight, then rubbed them together briskly. "So now down to business. You solved the riddle on that ridiculous mirror, and now, here you are, having won your prize. Congratulations, Picard, you and Red here are about to change history."

"Oh no, Q, I think not. The Prime Directive specifically states…"

"Picard, be quiet for a moment and listen. You are being given the chance of a lifetime. You can undo your wrongs and make them rights. In a few minutes, you will go back to a time in your life, together, where you will make amends with whatever demons still eat away at your soul. You won't even remember this conversation having taken place."

"That's right, Captain," Wesley joined in. "This happens more often than you think." He wanted to tell him that, in the end, nothing would have actually changed. He knew that Picard would not be so abrasive if the Captain knew that history would remain just as he had left it, only his understanding of the universe and how to survive in it would be different. He knew that he could not, however. People thought that it was redundant to repeat their past, then, and didn't even try to make a difference. He decided to remain silent.

"Your life," Q continued, stepping forward to seize command of the situation back from Wesley, "will be as you make it. You will be left only with a footprint of what you once became. Hopefully you can refrain from making the same stupid mistakes twice."

With that, Q snapped his fingers and the officers disappeared.

"Good luck," Wesley whispered.


	5. Chapter 5

Picard had the distinct feeling he'd been somewhere else just a moment ago. That was absurd, though. He had been sitting here on the couch all along, listening to Walker babble on and on about some girl he had met the night before. All of his self-pitying banter was giving Picard a headache. "I want to see Beverly," he interrupted him.

Walker looked at him quizzically. "Beverly? Why do you want to see her? Don't you mean you want to see Jack?"

Picard mentally chided himself, trying to keep his face from burning crimson. He had done it again, nearly given his obsession with his best friend's wife away. "Jack and Beverly I said," he lied. "You were just too busy wallowing in your own self-absorption to notice."

"Whatever," said Walker, unperturbed.

They walked down the hall to the officer's quarter's their friend and his wife shared. Picard was going to miss the time they spent together when the couple moved into a house they had found recently on some nearby land that, though close, wasn't exactly next door.

Beverly opened the door. Picard swallowed the lump in his throat. It was as though he had forgotten how beautiful she was. He fought his raging hormones, but they would not be subdued. He appeased them by taking her hand in his and brushing his lips across the milky white knuckles. Beverly blushed and giggled, but did not pull back.

"Oh puhlease," Jack Crusher said, rolling his eyes. "Picard, you are positively primeval. At least kiss her on the cheek for God's sake. You know you want to," he smirked, laughing at his own joke. Picard was certain Jack knew nothing of his feelings for Beverly. If he had, he would never invite him to kiss her, he would have ripped his lips off. Jack loved his wife more than anything in the world, but he didn't mind his friends harmlessly flirting with her. It actually made him swell with pride. As long as it didn't go any further than that. 

"What are you doing over here again," Beverly inquired as she poured drinks for the four of them. 

"Jean Luc couldn't wait to see you," Walker answered. "If you ask me, Jack, I think he's a little smitten with her. He didn't even mention wanting to see you. He tried to cover it up, of course, saying that I wasn't listening, but we all know better. Admit it, Jean Luc. You're just using Jack to get at Beverly." 

Picard sensed that this was about to get dangerous, if fact that it would have already been dangerous were it not Walker catting the tale. Thank God for his flair for the overly dramatic.

"Actually," Picard said neutrally, "I'm in love with Jack, but I wasn't ready to tell you Walker. I thought you might die without me, and I don't know how Beverly will ever go on without him after we elope." He said it with such a deadpan expression that they all had to laugh.

Beverly brought their drinks back in and sat on the sofa next to Picard. For a moment his heart turned somersaults in his chest. There was an empty seat next to Jack, yet she had chosen him. Then, very quickly, since he knew what was good for him, he contained himself. His friend didn't look happy, but he didn't say anything. After a moment, Beverly reached across the coffee table and swatted her husband playfully on the arm. "Oh Jack, come off it. Walker's already sitting with you. Poor Jean Luc here was lonely." She squeezed Picard's arm affectionately, which was enough to send a seismic jolt through him.

They spent the rest of the evening making small talk, but Picard could hardly concentrate. At last it was time to leave. Walker called a goodbye to Jack, who had received a message in the other room, and kissed Beverly lightly on the cheek. "A pleasure as always," he said, stepping out the door.

Picard was unsure what to do. He didn't trust himself to kiss her, yet he knew she would be offended if he did not. She cleared her throat softly. "Oh, um, yes, thank you," he stammered, wondering how she affected him so. "This was nice." He nodded in affirmation, tilted his head, placed his lips upon hers and kissed her. She gasped slightly, but did not resist, and he wondered why she had done so for only a split second when he realized, to his horror, that not only were his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, he was using his tongue. He was even more horrified to realize that she was responding to him. And it felt so right. It felt so damned _right_. 

Suddenly a firm hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away. "What the hell do you think you're doing," Walker whispered at him through clenched teeth. "She's Jack's wife, or have you forgotten that. You're lucky he didn't see you. I don't think he'd care if you're his Captain or not after a display like that. Come on, you've had too much to drink. I'm sorry Beverly," he added before dragging Picard by the arm down the corridor.

Beverly, shocked and horrified by guilt, said nothing. She wasn't sorry. She felt bad, on Jack's behalf, but she was not sorry. She had felt something in his kisses, something that stirred feelings she didn't even know she had within her. 

If anything, she was scared.


	6. Chapter 6

"What the hell were you thinking," Walker asked Picard once they were in the safety of their own quarters. "I can't believe I just saw that. How much did you have to drink, anyway?"

"I wasn't drunk," Picard said. It would have been easier to simply say he was, to lie his way out of this situation. He knew he could trust his friend, though. He knew Walker wouldn't repeat the things he said to Jack. He didn't really want to talk, but, somewhere deep down within him, it was as though his conscience was forcing him to.

"I love her," he said. Not quite meeting Walker's gaze.

"Yeah," Walker smiled wistily, "she's great isn't she. How could you not love her."

Picard, who could have stopped there, pretending it was primal hormones that had gotten the better of him, pressed on. "No, Walker, I don't think you understand. I love her. I am totally in love with her. She's the first thing that I think of when I wake up in the morning, and the last thing on my mind when I slip off to bed. I try not to think of her, but I can't stop. At first I thought it was hormonal, rather than emotional, but as time went on I came to see that it was more, so much more than that."

Walker was silent for a moment. "Oh shit Picard," he said when he finally spoke again. "She's his _wife_ for Christ's sake. You can't love her like that and be his best friend. It's just not allowed. It's not right."

Picard said nothing.

"You have to tell her," Walker said. "You have to let it out in the open how you feel. She'll shut you down and bring you to your senses. You have to, Jean Luc. It's the only way."

*****

Beverly Crusher wasn't sleeping very well. She lay there, her feeling tearing her up inside as she looked at her sleeping husband snoring peacefully on the pillow beside her. How could she have done that to him? And with Jean Luc Picard, no less. Why did she feel this way, all of the sudden.

She remembered that moment, earlier in the evening. She and Jack had been eating a late dinner, and for a moment, her attention had lapsed. It was as though something had happened in that blink of an eye. After her momentary disorientation, she wasn't the same person she used to be. Something about her was different.

She walked to the mirror in the bathroom, turned on the light, and peered at her sleep-deprived reflection. Something was different. Something she couldn't quite put a finger on… There, the eyes. Those eyes were old, tired, and sad, as though they'd seen a lot of things they'd rather have not and were incapable of finding peace in the wake of any of them. She blinked and shook her head, she must be imagining things. She thought of waking Jack to tell him, but her reflection having different eyes seemed a very silly notion, and Beverly Crusher was not a silly woman.

*****

Jack never found out about what happened that night. Walker was as silently loyal as Picard had hoped for him to be, and neither the captain nor Beverly had any plans to tell Jack what had happened that night.

Walker, however, wouldn't let it go.

"Did you talk to her," he asked his roommate as the two of them chatted over lunch.

"Not yet," Picard admitted. He really had no plans to, and hoped that Walker would forget before the three men shipped out again in two weeks. Knowing Walker Keel he doubted it, but it was worth a try.

"Tonight, then," Keel said firmly.

"Oh no," Picard said, "I don't think that tonight is a good time. Do you seriously expect me to have this discussion with her in front of Jack?"

"No," Walker countered. "That's why tonight is a perfect time. Jack's briefing for our upcoming mission is at 1800 hours. Beverly will be alone for at least an hour."

Picard blanched slightly. Alone, with Beverly? He wasn't sure if he could handle it.

"I'll come with you if you like," Walker offered.

"No, no that's quite all right," Picard said, wishing his true feelings reflected his words.


	7. Chapter 7

"Come in," Beverly Crusher called as the door chimed. She set aside the book she had been studying from and smoothed her hair unconsciously. She wasn't expecting company, yet, somehow, instinctively, she knew who it was.

"Hello," he said without preamble. "May I sit down?"

"Of course," she said, her words feeling somehow forced and awkward as though they were meeting for the first time. 

They stared at each other, as though they had suddenly become sparring partners and each was analyzing the other's ability. After a few minutes Beverly raised her eyebrows, and then said in a voice laden with expectation "Are you waiting for me to say something?"

"No. I just wanted to talk to you about what happened the other night."

"I know what happened Jean Luc. I was there, remember."

"Yes, I know, but it was a mistake. I didn't mean to let myself loose control. I had too much to drink, and I put your relationship with Jack in jeopardy, as well as my friendship with him. I'm sorry." He paused, his stomach in a knot.

"Jean Luc," Beverly said, "I was there. You were not drunk. You kissed me because you wanted to. It was your heart that inebriated your inhibitions, not alcohol." She didn't know how she knew this, but she did. She felt embarrassed now by the weight of the words and turned shyly away from him, her pale cheeks flushed. 

Picard choose his next words carefully. The situation was difficult anyway, and tossing off rash comments might only serve to make it worse. "And what belied your inhibitions?"

"What do you mean," she asked as though galled by his statement. "Do you think I enjoyed what you did to me? Do you think I felt something for you? If you do, you've come off me a bit, Jean Luc. Jack is my husband, and your best friend. I think the greatest service you could do for him now is to end this conversation before it finds its way to places in which you don't want it to be. I love Jack, and I am him wife. There's nothing more to say."

Picard would have backed away, but something stopped him. A voice inside was begging him, pleading with him to push forward, to move on. He had to tell her. He knew he would not rest until his heart lay, open and bleeding, at her feet. He had tried to skirt the issue, but she had captured him in his own character. Now he felt there was no choice but to move forward and make his feelings known.

"I love you," he whispered. It was not so much a statement as it was a plead for a response. His gaze held her steady, and though he was afraid, he did not look away. Neither did she.

"Jean Luc, no," she said. Her voice was soft and breathy, as though she did not trust herself to speak. Something inside of her was pulling her to him. It was as though she were being forced to confront everything that was in her heart. She tried to turn away, but something would not let her. She wondered where these feelings had come from. She had never felt anything for Picard before, but now it was as though she were seeing him with different eyes, as though some part of her knew something she had never before been aware of.

He stepped around the table and knelt before her, his eyes leveling her. It was as though he could read into her very soul. She trembled, afraid of herself more than him. 

Their eyes locked, and he leaned forward, kissing her nose, her eyebrows, and her neck before placing his lips upon hers. There was something about it that felt so right that she didn't even resist. It was as though she had found the meaning of her life in his kiss, something she had never felt with Jack. His gentle touch made sense out of chaos. It was as though they had shared a lifetime much longer than their own waiting for this moment. Beverly melted into his arms. 

Which is when Jack Crusher walked into the room.

*****

Q smirked, staring at the screen. "I considered stopping this," he told Wesley, "But I'm glad I waited. This is too good to miss. Ah, lower life at its best."

"What did you do," Wesley snarled. "How did you make them do this? My mother loved my father. How dare you force her to betray him like this."

"How dare _I_ " said Q incredulously. This, my dear boy, was your doing. You picked the wrong focal point. With the feelings they had for each other implanted in their heads, what did you expect to happen? They can't help it." He smirked, his grin dripping with satire.

"But, I thought, my father.." he stammered, looking lost and alone. 

"You thought wrong dear boy," said Q. "Just watch the wheels of fate work. It's fascinating, really. Some destinies will never be denied. No matter. I suppose we can let this play out, if not for entertainment, then to teach you a lesson in selfishness. You strayed from the objective, trying to fulfill your own wants and desires." he laughed, but it was not a pleasant sound. "Now watch as your reality turns inside out…"

Wesley looked on in horror.


	8. Chapter 8

Like a panther, Jack vaulted across the room, grabbing an astonished Picard by the shoulders before he even had a chance to pull away from Beverly. He backhanded him viciously, knocking his captain to the floor. The older man tried to get up, but Jack flattened him with a quick sideways kick.

Then he turned his attention to Beverly. His eyes were full of hurt and betrayal. "How could you," he asked, looking both fragile and dangerous. She didn't answer, just sat there quaking. He turned away from her, grabbed Picard by the throat, and threw him into the hallway. "Don't you ever come back here again," he spat at him. Picard, flat on his side, did not move. "How did you ever dare to call yourself my friend?"

The door hissed shut as he turned back into his quarters, leaving Picard alone. Slowly, and with an effort that took more out of him than he would have ever admitted, he rose to his feet. He felt as though his whole body were on fire as he limped doggedly down the hallway to his own room. Walker was waiting there for him. 

"_Beverly_ did this to you?" he asked, his face both astonished and incredulous. "I wasn't sure how she would take it, but, somehow, I didn't expect that."

"Beverly didn't do this. Jack did."

"You told her in front of Jack? Picard, for a smart man you are seriously lacking in the common sense department." Walker whistled under his breath.

"I didn't tell her in front of him." He stood up and paced, even though movement hurt. He felt as though, somehow he had to regain control. It was as if suddenly everything were spiraling out of control. "I told her, and then I kissed her. Right in the middle of it, he walked in."

"You kissed her? Picard, you are a fool. I'm sorry, but you can't seriously believe you can take her away from him. I can't believe you want to. I thought Jack meant more to you than that." 

"She kissed me back," Picard whispered. 

"You have to go back there and apologize. How can you expect him to serve as your first officer if you don't…" Picard's words permeated his haze of thought. "What?"

"She kissed me back. I know what I felt. She didn't even try to stop me."

"Oh _shit_," said Walker. He looked in Picard's eyes, and knew what he said was true.

Picard thought for a moment, and then said aloud the only thought that occurred to him. "Indeed."

*****

Jack clasped his hands behind his back, his eyes lowered to the floor. He didn't look at Beverly. He wasn't sure he could. 

Beverly, for her part, became very taken with a small spot on the sofa upholstery. She was afraid to speak. Some part of her wondered if she were even able to. She didn't know what she would say. She herself was not quite sure what had just happened.

At last Jack stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Beverly."

She choked. "Yes Jack?"

"What was that that I just saw? Please tell me it wasn't the only woman I have ever truly loved kissing the best friend I have ever had." He rubbed his temple with his thumb. He wanted this to go away. He hoped he would wake up, and see her lying peacefully beside him. He wondered if he would ever be able to look at her the same way again.

"I'm sorry," was all she said. It was more a muffled sob than it was a statement. 

"Do you love him?" It was a question he didn't want to ask. He wasn't sure he could handle the answer. 

"No."

"Then why?"

"I don't know. It all happened so quickly…" Her voice trailed off, as though she had no explanation. Even if she had, he wasn't interested in hearing it. All that mattered to him now was that Picard, the man who had everything he had ever wanted, had now tried to steal from him the only thing life had managed to provide for Jack and deny Picard: Beverly.

Now there was only one thing he wanted to know. "Do you love me, Beverly?" He couldn't bear it if she said no.

"More than anything." She smiled at him, and he embraced her. He never even noticed that the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

Two weeks later, the _U.S.S. Stargazer_ shipped out, without Jack Crusher. He had gone to Starfleet and filed a formal request for reassignment, citing irreconcilable differences between himself and his commanding officer. The truth was, the two men hadn't spoken to each other since that night. Starfleet had frowned upon so late a transfer, but Crusher had been insistent. He had called in ever favor he ever had, not to mention damn near everyone who had ever been considered anyone in the Fleet. Eventually, the job was done, and Walker Keel had been reassigned as Jean Luc Picard's first officer.

Jack had taken an assignment on a starbase in a sector near Earth that allowed him to return home often. At first, determined to save his marriage with Beverly, he had made the short trip weekly. Since That Night, their relationship was spiraling downward faster and faster. She had grown distant and quiet, and, wrought with frustration, he cut himself off from her. As the months crawled by, he came home less and less often. When he was there, they seldom spoke and he slept on the couch. Eventually, he buried himself so deeply in his career that he stopped seeing her all together. 

Beverly, for her part did little to save the marriage. She immersed herself deeply in her studies, trying to defer the turmoil her personal life was giving her into energy to excel in her professional life. She did little but study, work, eat and sleep. There was nothing else left for her. She kept in touch with Walker and Picard, though Jack had become estranged to Keel as well. Through the grapevine, he had discovered that Walker had known about Picard's feelings for Beverly, and Jack could never again look at either of the two men he had once called his best friends without affixing blame on them for destroying the life he had worked so hard to build.

Over time, Beverly developed a relationship with Picard that was deeper and more profound than any she had ever shared with Jack. He visited her on leave, and was there to comfort her and slowly take the place of the love she had lost. They discussed sharing their life together. Picard had only one thing stopping him. The guilt.

Walker was there for them all when Jack and Beverly divorced. He hugged Beverly and reassured her that these things happen. "Some things are meant to be," he said, glancing at Picard, "And other things that seem to be are not." He looked at Jack, whose face was despondent and detached, as though he were in a place where pain did not exist, but neither did anything else. He clapped Picard on the back briefly and told him to stop dallying around and do what he had wanted to for years. "You don't be guilty, Jean Luc," he insisted in the same way he always did. "If they had wanted to fix things, they could have. They gave up before they ever really even tried. They made that choice, not you." Last, he walked up to Jack. "I'm sorry," he said.

"So am I," said Jack

"Don't be," Walker said. "All things work for good. That's the thing with fate. You thought something was right for you, but this is life's way of telling you there's something better." Jack nodded, but said nothing. The two never spoke again, but Crusher never forgot what he said.

Two months later Walker Keel was killed on an away mission. 

Jean Luc Picard, who had never lost a friend while in command, couldn't find it within his heart to forgive himself. He began to look at his career in a different light, and think about a simpler life. Eventually, he left the stars and settled back in LaBarre to raise a family with his new wife, Beverly.

Beverly went into private practice near the Picard family home after finishing Medical School. She never quite forgave Starfleet for stealing from her both her first husband and a good friend. Though she never said anything against the organization she never again had any involvement with it.

As for Jack Crusher, he continued on with his life. He worked on that same starbase for years and years, drank too much synthohol, spent too much money and had too many wild affairs. Sometimes, though, as his life became more and more the stagnant one of a man who could have been something if only he had tried, he would remember another time and place that he had lost long ago. He told himself he never really loved her anyway. He told himself that, ultimately, Jean Luc Picard had taken nothing from him, and he reasoned that he had never wanted a family anyway. Then he reached for the bottle again.


	10. Chapter 10

"Oh, bravo. Bravo!." Q rose from the chair he had been sitting in, clapping his hands together and pretending to weep. "Incredible. You _are_ a genius! Look at what you have created! Not only that, but you sacrificed your own life so Jean Luc and Beverly could be together. Well, at least your father is still around, although I think death would have spared him some humiliation. This is excellent. To think, I wonder what someone who is less than you are now could concoct."

Wesley said nothing. He stared at his hands as though noticing them for the first time. He tried not to think of how much it had hurt him. He tried to detach himself and feel no pain, but he could not. He had broken the rules to try and find happiness for himself. Instead, he had inadvertently created something even worse than what he had started with. All he had wanted was his father, but now…

"I think he learned the error of his ways." The voice came from everywhere at once, as though the very fabric of the universe was reverberating with it. "Now Wesley you may do what you were supposed to in the first place as long as you never dismiss what you learned here today. Lessons that come at so high a price should not be forgotten." The voice faded away, and was gone.

Wesley concentrated, closed his eyes, and felt what was right. He let reality repair itself, and moved through their lives until he found where he should have begun in the first place. He flexed his fingers and nodded.

Q snapped his fingers.

*


	11. Chapter 11

The sky was blue, and the purple clouds of twilight shone with heartbreaking clarity tonight. He had walked this path before, many times in fact. For him, atop this tiny hill was a place he had thought of as his second home. Things would be different now, that he knew. He found, to his surprise, that this sentiment pained him almost as much as the loss of his dear friend did. It was easy to understand, though, he told himself. After all, it is not the loss that we truly mourn; it is the changes that await us in its wake.

She didn't know yet. He felt he owed her, owed them, something more than the traditional subspace beacon, so he had taken a shuttlecraft back to Sector 001. He had to tell her in person. The final member of their foursome had joined him. Walker had made the trip for moral support, but this journey was his alone. One of the more grizzly aspects of being a Starfleet Captain. He had lost others before, but never a friend. He worried that his relationship with Jack may have clouded his judgment of how to break the news to Beverly.

His stomach tensed as he thought of her. Suddenly, this face-to-face encounter seemed like a terrible mistake. Perhaps it was not his friendship with Jack that had clouded his judgment at all. He felt sick at his own thoughts. The feelings he had for his best friend's wife had always been inappropriate, but now they seemed grotesque. His face burned with a pang that was beyond guilt, it was as though he were desecrating his friend's memory.

He froze, the wooden door having appeared before him all too soon. She would be there, on the other side. He came as close to panic as Jean Luc Picard ever did. He realized, fully, for the first time, that his words would hurt her, and, moreover, he would be forced to stand and bear witness to her pain. He wished now that he had proceeded in the standard way, detaching himself rather that being a friend.

He had no choice now, however.

He raised his hand and rapped on the door. "Just a moment," he heard her sing out from within. He swallowed, wiping the beads of perspiration from his brow.

"Jean Luc, what a pleasant surprise," she exclaimed, a vision of simple loveliness. "Jack didn't tell me the two of you were expecting shore leave anytime soon. Look at me, answering the door in these disgusting old rags," she shook her head as though she were forlorn, but the smile etched upon her lovely features gave her away.

"Beverly," he started. He licked his lips, which had suddenly gone dry, and tried again. "Beverly."

She stared into his eyes, and he saw something click. Her cheerful exuberance was gone, replaced by a crazed worry that was a mixture of panic and pain.

"Jean Luc, please, no. It can't be…" her voice trailed off, choked away by tears.

"I'm so sorry," he said, handing her the PADD on which the details of her husband's death were described. Her fingers brushed his as she took it from him, and her wanted nothing more than to hold her, to comfort her. 

Slowly, he reached up to wipe the tears from her eyes. As he did, she startled and drew back. "Thank you, Captain," she said in a hollow, dead sort of voice.

She started to shut the door, but he caught it as it swung toward him. He didn't know why he had done such a thing, but something inside of him told him it was the right thing to do.

"Beverly," he said, grabbing her wrist. The two of them had been close since their first meeting. He wasn't going to lose her now. "Please," he said, "don't shut me out. You don't have to be in pain alone. Please, let me help you."

She looked at him slowly, as though seeing what was really inside for the first tie. Somehow, she trusted him beyond rhyme or reason. As though he were someone different than the man she remembered him being. As though he had once meant a very great deal to her, and she was just now remembering. She was hurting, but she was able to look through her pain and see his. It took her no more than a moment to decide. "Okay," she whispered, her voice trying not to crack.

She didn't want to admit she need him, but she did. She had always prided herself on being independent and strong, but, without Jack, she didn't know how she would go on. And how to tell Wesley, who was old enough to understand and hurt, but not old enough to fully comprehend. _But, _she wondered to herself _was anyone ever able to fully comprehend that they would never again be together with someone they loved?_

Walker stuck his head through the door. "Okay, Jean Luc?"

Picard nodded. He wasn't okay, but his friend knew that. He just wanted to know if he was holding on.

"Beverly," said Keel, "I am so very sorry. We loved him too. Either one of us would have taken his place. He was a hero, in every sense of the word. Jack was a good man. I know you'll never forget that, but make sure his son knows, too." Beverly bit her lip and nodded. She didn't trust herself to speak. She hugged Walker tightly. He squeezed her shoulder, turned away and walked out.

Picard replicated two cups of tea and sat down beside her on the couch. For a long time, he said nothing, and he simply held her, stroking her hair and wiping away her tears. Wesley, her five-year-old son was away at a friend's house, and she had seen no need to call him home. "Let him have one more happy night," she had said. "No point in changing his life prematurely."

"He wanted to be like you, Jean Luc," she said, deep in the night. Picard startled slightly. He hadn't slept in days, yet somehow he had found the comfort to sitting here cradling her in his arms. She continued, "You were everything he aspired to, everything he wanted to be. His friendship with you was something he treasured beyond anything else." She was quiet again for a moment. "He always wanted to tell you. I always told him that, when you looked back on the times you spent together, I was certain you would know."

Picard was flabbergasted. He had never known. He had been so busy wishing he could be more like Jack Crusher he had never considered that Jack would want to be like him. Jack Crusher was successful, bright, funny, happy, and loved. Picard was successful and lonely. How often had he wished to be loved the way Jack Crusher was. To think that Jack had wanted to be like him. He almost smiled. Sometimes it seemed as though relationships were built on nothing but irony.

"I wish we could all be more like Jack," Picard told her softly. 

For the rest of the night, they didn't speak again. He never once let her go, and she never stopped holding on.


	12. Chapter 12

They stayed in contact after that. It was as though Jack's death had created a morbid string of humanity to connect them. Picard sent communiqués with some frequency telling her about the life he was living, and read the ones she sent with interest. He visited on leave occasionally, and, as Wesley grew older he stepped further and further into his life, trying to help him out wherever Beverly could not. he believed every boy need a man to look up to, and though he was not certain he was the man for the job, he felt he owed it to Jack to do the best he could.

Beverly stood by him after Maxi Zeta, and even testified in favor of his character at the court-martial. She never blinked when she was on the stand, and when she spoke of him, her voice did not falter. He found himself moved as he listened to he recount the kind of man she believed him to be.

She ate dinner with him that night. He couldn't help but notice the way her eyes danced when she laughed, or how her smile lit up the room. "God, she's beautiful," he thought. He marveled at the way she had picked up the pieces of her life and moved on. She always swore he had helped her, but he thought it was nothing more than flattery. She had always been strong.

She noticed the way he was looking at her, and felt a knot of fear in the pit of her stomach. Perhaps she was reading too much into it. She had always felt safe with him, and had sometimes even wished they could be more than friends. It had been years now since Jack had died. She felt ready to move on now, and she wondered if he would be willing to take her hand and move with her.

He walked her home, taking her arm and chatting easily with her in the brisk air. They reached the doorstep. They embraced as usual, but this time it was different. It was as though, in their touch they found a need for something more. Slowly the brought their lips together. It was a kiss full of love, hope and promise. Beverly felt as though, somehow, this was a moment they had waited for since the beginning of time. It seemed as though some kind of destiny had been fulfilled. She swallowed as he pulled back, mustered all of her courage, and asked, "Would you like to come in?"

Picard wanted nothing more, but he wanted there to be no regrets when the decision was made. "Not tonight," he said, "but soon."

She nodded. "Jean Luc, I…"

He cut her off "I know."

*****

"I got the assignment," he told her, not long after that night.

"Jean Luc," she said, "that's wonderful." He had wanted the Enterprise captaincy badly, and she would have given anything to see him get it.

"I ship out in six months," he said.

"So I guess we'll have to make the most of it before we say goodbye." She knew that such vessels were designed for long term missions. It could be years before he returned to Earth. Her heart was breaking, but she didn't want him to see. She wanted nothing to spoil his moment.

"Come with me," he said.

"Oh, Jean Luc, I don't have what it takes. I don't have the service record. I'm up to the job, but you have to serve your time."

He smiled. He loved the way she was honest. She knew she was good at what she did. She was one of the best. He was glad that she felt no need to deny it. "Why don't you give it a try?" He paused, and then pulled from within him he strength to say what he had wanted to for so long. "How can I live anywhere but with the woman I love?"

She looked at him.

"I love you," he said

"And I you." She held out her hand, and he took it, smiling.

"You made my life complete. No matter what you have, it means more when you have someone to share it with. I always loved you, Beverly. From the moment I saw you, I knew you were incredible."

"Why thank you, Jean Luc," she said, an impish smile on her face, "But I knew I was incredible all along."

He laughed loudly, until her kisses quieted him into finding another more enjoyable pursuit.

*


	13. Chapter 13

The image on the screen froze. "But," said Wesley, "doesn't the rest matter." 

"No," said Q, looking at the man as though he were a microbe. They've learned their lesson. The rest is irrelevant. We bring them back, and we change it back to how it was, and life goes on."

"Why do we have to change it back? They look so _happy_."

Q rolled his eyes. "Haven't you learned anything? Who knows what else has changed because of their relationship here. The whole point of this is to teach them to make do with what they have, and to not be afraid to make it work, not to destroy things. Didn't your last experience teach you anything?"

Wesley blushed crimson. "You're right."

"Of course," said Q. "What do you think _omnipotent_ means? Now then, let's see if they've learned anything."

He snapped his fingers, and they appeared before him just as they had been before embarking on their trip through the past.

"What have you done," snapped Picard. He had the sensation he had been on a long and arguious journey, but was unable to remember any of it. 

"Look," Q snorted, "You can't even do him a favor without being attacked. You would think someone who had been given a gift like the one he received would be more grateful. I believe you owe me the courtesy of…"

"I owe you nothing. Nothing," Picard interjected.

"You owe me more than you could possibly realize, but since you could never understand, I'll let it go. You already don't remember what you've just been through, and soon you won't remember this exchange, or Torpid VI, for that matter. All you'll be left with is a vague sense of what you learned. Maybe someday you'll come to appreciate it."

With that, he snapped his fingers.


	14. Chapter 14

The _Enterprise_ was in dry dock for scheduled maintenance. The crew had scattered in all different directions, and Picard was just heading for a shuttlecraft to take him to nearby Torpid VI to look at some archeological ruins when a pleasant voice called out his name.

Yes," he said, turning around to face her.

"I thought perhaps you would like to spend the day with me," she said. 

He was confused. She had been somewhat reserved since they had been linked at the mind after Kes Prytt. Her words still cut like a knife. He had told her that perhaps they should not be afraid to take things further in their relationship now that each knew how the other felt. He had left himself vulnerable, and she had delivered a crushing blow, saying "Or, perhaps we should be afraid." He felt as though they had gone backwards since then.

"I would consider it an honor, Doctor," he said, offering her his arm, which she took.

They toured the base together, making small talk. He couldn't help but notice the way she smiled at him, and the way she was looking at him.

"Jean Luc," she said, as they stood outside her cabin that evening, saying their good byes, there's something I've been wanting to tell you." The moment hung there, as he waited. Her heart pounded, as she said "Perhaps we should not have been afraid after all."

*****

Wesley sat before the fire, staring at his mentor. "You did well," The Traveler said.

"Thank you," said Wesley. He wasn't proud, but he felt lighter somehow, changed.

"they were not the only ones to walk away with something this time. I believe your spirit has learned a lesson as well."

He was right, of course. It took a moment for Crusher to speak. "You were always insistent that every vision should mean something. At first when I left this one, I thought I was only supposed to learn what they did, that if you are willing to give a little of yourself the rewards you will reap are worth the sacrifice and pain. then I realized there was more." He paused for a moment, and then switched tracks. "I don't remember my life before my father died, but I always wished he could come back. I thought that somehow a sense of cosmic balance could be restored if only he could return. 'What if he had never died?' I always wondered that. You delude yourself into thinking things would be perfect if one thing had only worked out in a more positive way."

"After I tried to create a reality when dad lived, I realized my error. Some things happen for reasons we never see. Maybe they weren't right for each other. Maybe her and Jean Luc were meant to be together, or maybe it was a fluke. That's not the point though. Nothing's perfect, and we have to deal with what we get. After I saw what I had done, I realized that what I had was far better than what I wanted."

The Traveler smiled. "Be thankful for your gift," he said, and disappeared into the mist, leaving Wesley alone with his thoughts.

*****

Picard was stunned. "You mean.." He didn't dare to hope. After twenty-five years, it seemed impossible.

"I love you, Jean Luc," she said.

"And I You, Beverly."

And as he kissed her, she knew no fear, for there was only love. 

"That's all there ever was Beverly," he said, as though reading her mind. "That's all there ever was."

He took her hand and led her towards the next chapter in their lives, and together they knew no fear.


End file.
